Froda
by x-Blueberry-Muffin-x
Summary: Lisbon finds herself being auctioned at a charity event and is a little surprised by one curly haired bidder.
1. Perhaps

**A/N: I've been fairly obsessed with The Mentalist lately and although I'm normally an angst writer I wanted to try something a little more fun - who better to do that with than Patrick Jane? Reviews appreciated as this is my first venture into TM fanfic and if you like it there will be a few more chapters to this one and I daresay I'll have a few other stories up soon too - lots of ideas :) **

**Hope you enjoy.**

Perhaps

"Come on Teresa, give us a twirl."

"You're lucky I don't have my gun, Jane!" she hissed through a fake smile as she strolled ever so carefully down the little catwalk. Teresa Lisbon wasn't used to heels...or dresses...or having a bunch of men ogle her. But it was for a good cause and Jane had unleashed the puppy dog eyes and completed his act with pouted lips and child-like whine of her name.

As usual she gave in and found herself being paraded in front of "horny old businessmen", as Rigsby so eloquently put it, auctioning off the pleasure of her company for an evening.

Both Lisbon and Van Pelt had been coerced into taking part with Rigsby looking decidedly put out when he realised he wouldn't be able to afford an evening with Grace. She, of course, had managed to raise just under $12,000 for the Davis Children's Hospital while Lisbon was clinging to the hope that Jane had invited Mashburn!

Fake smile set on her face she scanned the room. No sign of Mashburn...she knew she should have paid Cho to bid for her!

"As I was saying, here we have Teresa Lisbon, the C.B.I's very own sexy little hobbit," she glared at him, smile still in place, as the crowd tittered with laughter, lapping up Jane's infinite charm and humour.

_Oh yeah Jane's hilarious...try spending more than 2 hours in a car with him. "Are we there yet?" "Lisbon, where did you put my sandwich?" "Oh look the world's largest mole hill...can we go Lisbon?"_

She often wondered if changing her name would make him someone else's problem.

"Now on the surface she looks like a tough cookie but I can assure you it's not difficult to make her crumble. She's a simple girl at heart who likes good food, good wine and good control over your weapon." He winked cheekily at the crowd as she seethed, the garish blush on her cheeks clashing with her deep purple dress. "Whether you take her dancing or to a football game she'll show you a wonderful time and if you're very lucky she might even show you her Spice Girls dance moves."

The smile slid off her face. _Son of a..._

"So, gentleman, only one question remains. Do you wannabe her lover?"

_Screw it, bare hands will do._

Her fingers were inches from finding their way around his neck when the first bid came in.

"1,000 dollars."

"2,000"

Both Jane and Lisbon turned their heads towards the crowd as Jane returned to his usual form, grateful that he had a little more time to invent a story about how he discovered her dirty little secret.

"2,000 dollars? For this feisty little fox? I'm afraid you're going to have to up your game fellas. I bid 3,000 dollars."

"What the hell are you playing at? 2,000 is fine let's just get this over with so we can be done here and I can make you target practice." Her attempt at a whisper echoed through his microphone as he grinned that impossibly perfect smile at her.

Defiant he continued.

"Do I hear 4,000 dollars?" And so it went on.

And on.

And on.

Bidder number 1 backed down.

And on.

$12,000.

Lisbon had risen more than Grace. How she did not know, especially since her shock was plain to see, mouth hanging open like a demented guppy which she was betting didn't look all too attractive. Secretly she began to enjoy the bidding war, even if Jane was one of the two options. Either she'd have a night of him wowing a waitress with his charm and winning smile while pissing her off (as usual) or she'd have an evening with a fairly attractive "horny old businessman".

Much as she hated to admit it, part of her was disappointed when Jane stopped bidding.

Just a smidge.

"$14,999.99 and not a cent more."

Jane was beside the other bidder, invading his personal space as he attempted to coax a whole extra cent from his fat wallet.

"15 thousand my good man," he chirped jovially. English accent, sexy salt and pepper hair, and a nice smile as well as raising all that money for charity.

Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Going once, twice, three times and SOLD to the gentleman with impeccable taste in ties..." his eyes found Teresa's, "and women."

There was a look of sincerity there, visible even at a distance, which caused a particularly loud thud in her chest.

Perhaps she was a little too disappointed that Jane surrendered so easily.

In truth, she wanted him to want her.

There was no perhaps about that.


	2. Weasel

**A/N: Okay, so chapter 1 had so much positive response that I was overwhelmed! Some of you have disabled your PM's and so I'll thank everyone here again ****:) I realise this part has taken a long time but with being in the middle of my dissertation (LOL…as if I'm anywhere near the middle!) and having a job which I often find soul destroying I just haven't felt the urge to write. Also I am terrified of second chapters…hence why I mainly write one shots. **

**ANYWAY here is part deux and I hope it's ok as it feels a bit filler-y to me.**

Weasel

Weasel.

It had taken a lot of deliberation but that was the word she had settled on. To call him a snake was a little strong as it implied evilness rather than just plain being an ass-ness! Fox was a good one but it could be construed as pertaining to, what she'd often heard referred to as, his devilish good looks…not that Lisbon thought about him in that way…much. Rat also seemed a little strong and he was too pretty to be a pig; again, not that she really thought about him in that way, it was just obvious he was no pig.

Weasel was just right. Both a noun and a verb.

For example - Jane was a sneaky little weasel (_noun_) who had coaxed her into auctioning herself off and, since that night, had managed to weasel (_verb_) his way out of every situation which would lead to them being alone in close proximity thus avoiding an untimely demise or at the very least being hit over the head with something heavy…like his complaints files!

Yes, files - plural.

Immediately after the auction Jane had managed to do his usual Houdini act and was nowhere to be found at the post auction soirée. As she stormed into the men's room, certain it was the only possible place left for him to hide, she bumped into something tall and solid with a slight scent of coffee mixed in with his cologne. No tea, no Jane. Looking up she met the steely blue eyes of Ewan Davies…her mystery bidder. Mumbling apologies she stumbled backwards, blushing furiously. A soft chuckle followed her out of the bathroom, closely followed by a strong hand on her shoulder, gently urging her to stop.

And that was there moment. The rest of the evening passed without incident if you exclude the shameless flirting on both parts, any irritation at Jane for stopping his bids swiftly evaporated to the point where she almost felt the need to thank him.

Almost.

But she wasn't one to let the Spice Girls or hobbit thing go!

In the end she was rather exited about her date with Ewan and even on occasion found herself daydreaming a little at the prospect. Daydreaming sounded a little too girly to Lisbon...she was enthusiastically pondering her date.

On one of these particular moments she missed Patrick Copperfield creeping into the bull pen to test the waters.

"Think she's forgiven me yet?" he whispered to Cho, ducking down at the side of his desk.

"She started calling you by your name a few days ago and today she didn't do that frowning, death glare thing she does your name was mentioned. I'd say you're nearly off the hook." Not once did he take his eyes off the screen.

"Knew she'd come around," he beamed one of his mega-watt smiles around the room.

"I still wouldn't go in there if I were you," said Grace.

"Why not? You've borrowed her stapler so she doesn't have much left to throw at me."

"She has a mean right hook though...and teeth," offered Rigsby.

"True…but then again she's always the one telling me to bite her." He winked and made his way towards her office. He had a peace offering for her in the kitchen with plans to lure her there with the promise of coffee and donuts before handing it over to her. Coffee, calorific treats and flowers…who could resist?

He stopped as he reached the door, slightly taken aback at the far off look on her face and hint of a smile on her lips.

Contented.

"Someone's happy."

"Well, much as I wanted to hurt you for your smart ass comments a few days peace from you works wonders."

That was a really big smile.

"Oh, "wanted" as in past tense. So I'm forgiven?"

"I'm still toying with the idea of offering your services to Diego's team down at the local P.D. Abigail says hi by the way." She smirked.

"You'd really make me work with her after she threatened me?"

"She said she wanted to tie you up and cover you in chocolate. Coming from Abigail that's most men's idea of a dream come true! Also, it was the Christmas party and I'm pretty sure it was you who spiked the punch anyway...you know, the one that was already alcoholic to begin with!"

He laughed lightly, "Call me old fashioned but I like my chocolate on strawberries and I'd never tie a woman up…on the first date." His smile was positively wicked. "Also, that punch needed a little extra zing. _Anyway_, my little sadist, can I entice you into the kitchen where we can drown your resentment towards me in sugar and caffeine?"

"No can do I'm afraid." She stood up from her desk and caught Jane completely off guard. He'd noticed that her hair was curled - not entirely out of the ordinary - and that her make up was a little heavier but her outfit…that was unexpected. A simple emerald green wrap dress clung to her frame accentuating all the right curves and drawing attention to her tiny waist. Her gold cross nestled neatly in deep V of the outfit and various other glitzy yet delicate pieces of jewellery completed her look to perfection. Lisbon was going on a date.

Jane may be the grieving widower but he was never blind. He'd noticed women before and certainly there was no way of getting away from noticing Lisbon now.

This was something he always tried his hardest to avoid.

Allowing himself to notice her only made it harder to do what he had to do; to help her move on.

Ever the keen observer he prided himself in reading other people to a tee and rarely did he fail in his task. In the past only a few people had evaded his scrutiny, his dear wife being one of them, and only a few years ago his gift was once again challenged by the perception of a dying man.

Okay, so he hadn't exactly told the whole truth when Lisbon asked him what Bosco had said to him as he lay on his death bed. He skimmed over the part about killing Red John - i.e he omitted it - and also failed to mention that Bosco had seen what everyone else was apparently oblivious to.

"_She's never looked at me that way she looks at you. Take care of her or I will haunt your sorry ass."_

Jane remembered his eyes meeting hers through the glass and it was as though he was only now truly seeing her for the first time. The fear and pain at losing her friend - a given - but behind that, deep inside, he finally saw what Bosco had known all along and why he'd so desperately tried to get rid of him.

Teresa Lisbon was falling for him.

As his mind wandered back to that day, the day when he swore to himself to draw back and let her feelings fade he realised something - he'd been so wrapped up in his mission that he'd let his own guard down and now, as he saw her before him ready to head off on a date he had orchestrated he felt his chest constrict slightly at the very notion of it. All dressed up like a gift for someone else to open.

And Patrick Jane was practically the courier.

As she made her way towards the door she stopped momentarily to pinch his arm, eliciting his standard hypochondriac reaction, before whispering one last threat in his ear.

"Just remember I still haven't got you back for that Spice Girls thing."

He'd like to say that she sashayed gracefully to the door but heels never were her strong point - heels? So he got heels AND a dress?

Just like he promised he watched her go. Patrick Jane was selfish when it came to Red John, almost to the point where he became ruthless, but never with Teresa. He couldn't give himself to her the way she would need him to or the way she deserved.

Much as he wanted to.

Sighing heavily he ran his hands though his blond curls as his eyes fell upon a bouquet of roses on her desk; 49 white roses and a single red...no, crimson rose in the centre.

Enough to arouse Jane's suspicions.

A bouquet like that speaks volumes and none of what he heard made Jane particularly happy at his little game of match maker.

**A/N: I did this while drinking tea…could be my Britishness or I watch too much TM :)**

**Anyway this turned out quite different to what I expected. I had been having a serious problem deciding whether Red John was alive or not in this fic but it seems to have written itself and he is still with us. I fear I may venture briefly into my usual angst territory because of this - just giving you a little forewarning.**

**Also, happy Mentalist day! It's been a long three weeks and I don't get to watch it until tomorrow evening ¬_¬ Damn Europe!**

**R&R is love :)**


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